Jim Ingraham: Teams sell out stadiums in more ways than one

I would have gone with "FirstEnergy Stadium at Factory of Sadness Field".

But that's just me.

You can be sure, however, that Chip Kelly is kicking himself today. He could have been coaching in a stadium named after "one of the nation's largest investor-owned electric systems based on the number of customers served."

That's not just me, that's a direct quote from FirstEnergy's website.

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Today, The Chipster's probably thinking to himself, after kicking himself, "Why didn't they tell me they were going to name their stadium that?"

Too late, C-Kell. That ore boat has sailed.

One thing I always gave the Lerner family credit for -- maybe the only thing, come to think of it -- was they never sold out the brand name of the Cleveland Browns.

Tattered though they may be, they are still the Cleveland Browns, once a landmark franchise who still wear, to these weary eyes, the coolest uniforms in the NFL.

The Lerners refused to put a price on that, by selling the naming rights to the hometown gridiron, which, through thick and thick during the Lerner stewardship was known simply as "Cleveland Browns Stadium."

Economical.

Descriptive.

Accurate.

History has given us far more poetically-named playgrounds for the professionals. Joints like Maple Leaf Gardens, Fenway Park, The Polo Grounds.

For a few years in the 1960s, the San Francisco Warriors, which is what the NBA Warriors were called when they were located in San Francisco instead of Oakland, played their home games in the Cow Palace.

They don't name 'em like that anymore, boys and girls.

But in an era of professional sports in which everything is for sale -- including seats on the team benches in NBA arenas -- poetry has no place.

So the inevitable has happened, and now stadiums, arenas and ballpark names are raffled off to the highest bidder.

Tuesday, the Browns ended their auction by pounding the gavel and shouting "Sold!" while pointing to FirstEnergy.

Billionaire Browns Big Decision Maker Jimmy Haslam, in his first big decision since "I Give You Chudzinski!" has sold the naming rights of the stadium in which the Browns play their version of professional football, to FirstEnergy.

FirstEnergy Stadium.

Economical.

Vague.

Commercial.

FirstEnergy Stadium also raises the obvious question: Is that two words or three?

Haslam and the Browns will be getting a big pile of money out of the deal, as opposed to the big pile of you-know-what Browns fans have been watching for the last 14 years.

I get all this. Teams sell naming rights. Teams get lots of money for it. Corporations get lots of "free" publicity out of it.

God Bless America.

But when you get right down to it, it means nothing. Not unless the Browns can figure out a way to parlay some of that sweet moolah they are getting from FirstEnergy into the drafting of the next Colin Kaepernick.

It seems doubtful that the Browns will sign a free agent during the offseason who will say the reason he signed with Cleveland was "because it's always been my dream to play at FirstEnergy Stadium."

At no time during his 60-minute monologue in his introductory news conference after signing with the Indians did Nick Swisher say, "The way 'Progressive Field' just rolls off your tongue -- who wouldn't want to play here?' "

They may be ballparks, fields, stadiums and arenas to us, but to the athletes who play in them, and the billionaires who own them, they really are factories.

For the really successful ones, they are factories of happiness. Cash cows.

Like Jacobs Field was in its first eight years of existence.

As the home of the Indians, Jacobs Field replaced Municipal Stadium, perhaps the most generically named stadium in the history of municipalities.

What's the difference between Municipal Stadium and Acme Field?

Nothing.

There's no there there.

That's the biggest problem with the stadium name sellouts of the modern era. Name a ballpark, stadium or an arena, and there is no clue what city it's in.

For most of the 20th Century you knew what city a ballpark or stadium was in simply by its name. Comiskey Park was in Chicago. So was Soldier Field. Ebbets Field was in Brooklyn. Tiger Stadium was in Detroit.

Today?

Quick: Who plays in Oracle Arena?

Don't know?

Me neither.

By selling the naming rights of these places, they are selling out the identity of these places. Ballparks and stadiums today might as well be numbered, like public schools in New York City: "PS 151".

How romantic!

The day is coming when your children will tell theirs: "I remember being there the day the Browns won the AFC Championship game, and how loud the crowd was that day ... at good old Public Stadium 119."